


The Last Leaf

by AbsurdlyHappyAboutStorms



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 04:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18380651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsurdlyHappyAboutStorms/pseuds/AbsurdlyHappyAboutStorms
Summary: A snapshot of Desmond and second POV reader weathering out their early lives in New York.





	The Last Leaf

The screen door slammed shut behind you, sandals slapped against cold concrete steps. Even on the sidewalk that belittling voice followed you. _"Don't take that tone with me. I'm the reason you have a roof over your head."_ _Useless_. _Ungrateful_. _Arrogant._ Those words would never leave. You couldn't even tell anymore whose voice was always nagging in your head, his or yours. Waiting to wipe your eyes until you passed the window, you walked without direction down the street. Anywhere but here would be fine. That was until you spotted some coming toward you, familiar even fragmented by tears. That someone brought more relief than words could describe.  


He was kind of a scrappy-looking kid, Desmond, but you trusted him more than anybody. He understood you. In the year since you met him he had become like a brother and, like a brother, he instantly knew something was wrong.  


"Your dad?"  


You just nodded and he was turning on his heel to walk beside you, away from that god-awful house.  


"So, what was it this time?"  


"The usual. 'You don't appreciate this family. After all I've done for you you're such an ungrateful brat'." You wiped at your eyes again, taking a deep breath. "It's nothing."  


He was silent as he tried to keep up with your agitated pace, nothing but the familiar scuffing sound of your balded old shoes between you.  


"It's kind of cold out for sandals," he remarked, with a suspecting look down at your feet.  


"It was warm enough earlier."  


That was almost true, but not the reason for wearing them. And he knew you well enough to know that. It was simple carelessness. What was it that made you inwardly cringe when he took off his jacket almost as if you regretted causing him to give it up? It was warm around you when he draped it over your shoulders.  


Leaves clattered down the gutters like rain. Apartment buildings gave way to stores and lots behind you. It was a park neither of you decided to go to. You just did, unconsciously gravitating toward that chain-link fence that caught plastic off the road like a trawl net. It didn't have much more than tarmac and a swing set. There was a flimsy set of monkey bars and a bench sporting swaths of colorful tattoos. Some of those marks you and Desmond had made yourselves. The smooth artificial wood was clammy under your fingers as you sat beside him.  


"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.  


"No." You hunched over slightly in the cold, pressing your legs together. "How's that job going?"  


"Not bad. I mean I'm just sweeping floors and busing tables right now, but... it's alright. You?"  


"Nothing yet. Not like I'm actually looking forward to working retail or anything."  


"That guy's a real dick, you know?" he said suddenly.  


"What? Oh. Yeah... I- I think."  


"You don't have to like him. He shouldn't ask rent from a kid."  


"I don't pay rent," you said, surprised at the defensiveness in your tone.  


"But he acts like you should. He does. Seriously, come live with me when you can."  


"What? Des-"  


"I mean it. You shouldn't have to put up with that."  


"I can't."  


"Yes you can. You know I'll help you."  


You toed the faded remains of a pink butterfly clip under the bench. "It won't be easy." Only too late did you recognize the mistake.  


"Yeah, 'cause I know easy," he said.  


You sighed. "Right. Am I about to get a South Dakota story?"  


"If you want one."  


"No." You leaned back against the bench. "Um... thanks. It's just... they're my family, you know? I don't want to leave them even if he is kind of a dick."  


"Yeah. I know."  


What _was_ it like in South Dakota? He had told you a little bit about it, but how much did he really know? You had a feeling he knew a lot. It wasn't easy to make it on your own in New York, especially as a teenager, and yet he left. You couldn't help thinking of your mother who was so entrenched in the place. It was hard to see the calm, independent person she could be underneath harried placating and switching sides. Even as you left just fifteen minutes ago she was struggling to broker peace without power. A pot was steaming on the stove and the washing machine was rumbling from the laundry room- ambient noise of a house centered on arbitrary duties of love.  


"Hey," he pointed up into the rattling branches of a tree a little distance outside the park. It took a minute to spot the single leaf still hiding inside. "That could be the last leaf to fall this year. Wanna make a wish?"  


You side-eyed him, quirking an eyebrow at the childish idea. "Really?"  


"Yeah. Go ahead. Make a wish."  


"... honest or stupid?"  


"Mm..." He cracked a grin. "Stupid."  


It _could_ fall any second.


End file.
